


Of life stories and broken promises

by Marinne_Karneval



Category: D.Gray-man
Genre: Angst and Tragedy, Child Abuse, Flashbacks and Memories, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-21
Updated: 2017-07-21
Packaged: 2018-12-04 20:35:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,815
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11562861
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Marinne_Karneval/pseuds/Marinne_Karneval
Summary: One-Shot. Every person around the world has a story. The story I'm about to tell you, is from a young boy. Not young enough to be called a child, but not old enough to be a man. I believe he deserves to get his story told, maybe that way someone will understand, that he is also worthy of the good things life offers. His name... was Red.





	Of life stories and broken promises

It was a quiet night in the inn, something she was grateful for. Today had been a tiring day, a great amount of people coming to her place to get a nice meal and a decent place to pass the night. She would never understand travelers, going around the country, hoping from place to place. No home of your own and eating food that would never surpass the good old home-made cooking.  Definitely not the kind of life for her.

It was around 11 o’clock, and most people had already retired to rest, and only a few of the customers remained in the tavern. One in particular though, called to her attention.

A young boy, sitting in the corner.

“Are ya sure, ya don’t want anything else, lad?” she asked kindly, taking the glass in front of him.

Silver grey eyes, lifted from his work to stared right at her.

“Nothing else, ma’am. Thank you very much.” He said with a polite smile.

“Well, if you need anything, don’t hesitate to tell me.” She smiled at him.

“Will do. Thank you, ma’am.” And turned back to the paper he was writing on.

Strange young man; that he was. Hair white as snow like the elderly people and skin so pale, he looked almost sick. He wore a green coat, over a white dress shirt and black pants. He was young, she noted, most likely not pass 18 years old, and with a bizarre red mark over the left side of his face. With a small suitcase he arrived, and a bandaged left hand.

He was rather peculiar, that young man sitting on the corner, hunched over a set of papers. She wondered what he was writing with so much concentration. Something rather important, she guessed.

**…o0o…**

_August 22 nd, 18XX_

Whoever gets hold of this letter, please pay close attention.

I’m going to tell you the story of a boy, one not old enough to be considered a _man_ , but also not young to be called a _child_. Not inexperienced in the doings of life to be considered _naïve_ , but not enough experienced to be a lost cause for a happy ending.

He was an interesting person, that boy. He was known with many names during his short life, but let us refers to him, with the first name he ever received.

Red.

_“Hey! Ya gotta name?” a raspy voice called out for the small chestnut-haired boy in the corner. Silver pools, wide and hardened look up at the man._

_“No.” he whispered and lowered his gaze._

_“Well… guess we’ll just call ya Red.” A wicked grin appeared on the man’s dirty face, before taking another dragged from the cigarette._

 

Red was raised in the streets of London, marked by the harsh reality ruling this world. Taught from a young age to trust no one, to hope for nothing; to wait for the days to pass by without incidents. Living through the years with glimpses of kindness, but never quite getting to enjoy them.

He grew up thinking that he must had done something really bad in his previous life, and was getting divine punishment from the Lord up in Heaven. He never believed in luck, as he liked to think he never had any, based on his experiences throughout his life. This young man, you see, was born different.

A red, scaly-like left arm, instead of a normal pale-skin one. Black-cracked nails, instead of creamy pink ones, with a peculiar green crystal on the back of his hand. Shocking, indeed, but not evil, as the cruelty of humanity liked to point out.

_“Stay away from here, you freak!”_

 

Red’s origin where always unknown, to him and to everyone that crossed paths with him. No one knew which country he was born into… didn’t even knew if he ever had a name to begin with. He knew nothing about his family, if he had any siblings, younger or older; who his grandparents, aunts or uncles were. Much less did he know who the woman and man who gave him life, his parents, were.

As outsiders, we can think objectively, and link these circumstances to different situations. But not Red; this lonely boy believed that his parents didn’t loved him enough to take care of him. That just like everybody else, they believed he was some sort of abomination.

Because as far as Red could remember, he had always been alone.

The first memory he had was that of waking up in the middle of a dark alley, it was cold and the sky was grey. His clothes were nothing but a set of ragged pants and shirt, with his left arm was securely hidden by white bandages. His little feet were bare, touching the cold ground, as the mud stuck to his toes. His shaggy reddish brown hair, was hanging over his face, covering the silver grey eyes that once showed curiosity and wonder.

He walked around for days, no one really wanting to help him. No one was really interested in letting a small smelly street rat into their homes, not caring whether he was hungry or hurt.

 _Never rely on anyone._ That was the first lesson he learned in his life.

 _Human beings are worthless, selfish and greedy bastards._ That was the second lesson, and boy was it hard to learn.

It came in the form of a circus, and a pair of cruel men.

As Red continued wandering around the country, it wasn’t much longer until he reached a small clearing near the edge of a forest. Colorful and ragged tents were distributed around the place. People of different ages and sizes passed around, talking to one another, working and practicing interesting activities. It was a traveling circus, the boy found out.

The Ringmaster had found rather quickly, a boy with reddish hair in a place with only adults was sure to stand out. Red asked for a place to stay, and the Ringmaster agreed on the condition that he worked for him. And the little boy, who had no place to go, became the errand boy of that same circus.

He was tasked with cleaning the animal cages, washing laundry, helping in the kitchens and aiding the performers before the show. It was hard work, and the little boy struggled to keep up with it, having only one functioning arm didn’t help at all. But he pushed through and he got it done. It took a while though, his little body not used to the harsh work. But he quickly learned that the Ringmaster cared not about it, and constantly punished little Red for it. The man was ruthless and cruel, and the punishment depended on the mood and the state of intoxication.

When the man felt generous enough, he left Red with no dinner, took away the blankets to keep him warm at night. Sometimes when he had a little too much alcohol, he would shove the orphan boy in one of the cages like an animal. However, if the man was in a serious bad mood, he would take out the belt and setting against the little boy’s back. It was harsh, but there wasn’t quite anything anyone, much less a seven year-old boy could do. The man was the boss, and his word was final.

The performers weren’t quite bad, Red found out. They were people that made up the minority of society, and where shunned out because someone thought they were pathetic and useless. Outsiders and loners. Freaks.

Just like him.

But Red found them fascinating. They were amazing people, capable of jumping incredible heights and spin around the air without fear. People who weren’t sacred of juggling knifes, or having them thrown at them. People who could do ridiculous things to make others laugh and not care at all, they laughed as well.  They were no freaks, they were just people. A little weird and not quite right in the head, but they were alright in Red’s books. And they looked after each other, he noticed sometimes. Helped one another with their acts, joked around and even made small gatherings sometimes.

But there was someone who wasn’t like the rest of the crew.

He was the main star in there. A clown, who made small children and adults alike, laugh with his jokes and charisma, funny it was that he was one the worst human beings backstage.

His name was Cosimo.

He was a tall and imposing Italian man, with a bad trimmed moustache and a large beer belly. Lover of alcohol and gambling games, loud and obnoxious to no end. He took sick pleasure on making others feel inferior to him, wandering around the circus tents, as if he owned the place. Taunting others and boasting about his salary, he was the main star after all, and he received the best payment.

No one dared to go against him; they would get kicked out by the Ringmaster if they did. While some of the performers didn’t like the idea of a little boy getting abused by a cruel man and treated as a slave, they couldn’t risk to be kicked out. They too needed a place to stay, a work to get money and a food to eat. For this very same reason, no one tried in defending poor little Red, when he was chosen as Cosimo’s punching bag. Every night he would take the boy by the hair and dragged him back to his tent, pushed him into the corner and taunt him, calling him names, making him mad.

And Red, the little chestnut brown-haired boy, snapped.

He hated Cosimo and the Ringmaster, for the way they treated him. He was mad at the other performers and the audience that visited them, because they didn’t had to endure such kind of treatment. He hated that no one helped or defended him. He hated that he was an orphan, and he hated the family he had never known for abandoning him to his lack of luck life. He was mad at God for putting him into the world, and therefore hated the entire world that surrounded him.

It was a sad situation, seeing a small 7 year-old boy, filled with so much hatred and rage.

But do not fret, it all changed one day. Two years later, when Red was 9 years old, someone new came to the circus.

He was such a weird man, wearing a suit and a tall hat. The man wasn’t exactly young, his black hair with some grey streaks here and there, was combed back, and the small moustache he wore was always trimmed and well kept. He resembled one those high-society’s gentlemen Red has seen visited the circus from time to time with their families. 

The man’s name was Mana.

And quite ironically, just like Cosimo, Mana was a clown. Albeit one that was nicer, always smiling, and always willing to help other people. The Ringmaster was rather reluctant to let the man stay; he already had a main star, and a crew of clowns.

But Mana wasn’t exactly like any other clown. You see, the smiling clown had a companion. An amazing friend, who helped the clown in his act and was so full of joy and kindness that brought a smile on anyone that saw their act. Allen was his name.

Allen, the dog.

The Ringmaster had simply agreed to let them stay, when their first performance with his circus had been a great success. The crowd simply couldn’t help but love them. It was a simple and innocent act, but it was enough to warm the hearts of the audience. Enough to make them pass the word and bringing more customers to their circus.

The Ringmaster loved them. And the other performers liked them quite a lot. Little Red, who was filled with so much hate, just didn’t care as long as they left him alone. And Cosimo…

He didn’t like competition.

_“Is he dead?” asked a voice._

_The man kneeling in the ground, turned to look at his visitor. It was a small kid, with messy chestnut-brown hair tied in a high ponytail and dirty clothes. They consisted of a long-sleeved shirt and a dark green vest. He wore colorful high-knee socks, with shorts that same color of his vest and brown shows. There was an orange handkerchief around his neck and white bandages covering his left hand._

_The man was much older than the little boy, and by the kind of clothing he was wearing, he was a clown. On his face, you could see traces of white paint, with smudges of red over his nose, lips and the border of his eyes. His clothes were large and baggy, of a brilliant yellow color with red and green buttons, and orange stars on some spots._

_“He is dead.” confirmed the man. He looked sadly at the hole in front of him. Inside was small white dog with brown spots._

_“…He’s covered in bruises. Cosimo probably did it. ‘Cause the audience like ya more than ‘im. He hates when people are better’n ‘im. He’s got no talent except when it comes to stuff like ‘his.”_

_The clown looked at the boy from the corner of his eyes, as he started to cover the grave with the dirt on the side._

_“He was an old dog. He wouldn’t have lived much longer anyway.” Finishing, he placed a small ball on top of the grave. “It’s alright.”_

_“Hmm.” The kid looked at the grave and then at the man. “Yar no’ gonna take revenge?”_

_“If I do that, I’ll get thrown out of here and won’t get paid.” He put his hands together in the prayer form. “_ Namu Amida BooBoo.” _He whispered._

_The boy turned his head away from him, he couldn’t understand how the man didn’t wanted to revenge, wasn’t the dog important to him?_

_“I’m a newcomer after all. After Christmas tomorrow, I’ll move onto somewhere new…” the man said._

_“I see.” said the child._

_They sat in silence, next to the grave of the little dog. The man then looked at the kid. “Hm? Who are you anyway?” the clown titled his head in curiosity._

_“I do odd jobs around ‘ere… I’ve brought ya dinner ‘fore.” the kid responded looking to the other side, with a bored expression._

_“I have bad memory for faces.” He finally had a good look at the child’s face “Oh my! You are covered in bruises too, aren’t you?” the man rubbed a wet thumb on the kid’s face._

_“Wah! Gross! Get your spit off me, dummy!” he pushed the man back. While rubbing his cheek in disgust, he glared at the man._

_“It’s disinfectant.” They boy ignored him continued to rub his cheek “Did Cosimo beat you up?”_

_The kid’s glare got murderous. “Shut up.”_

_“Don’t you have any friends?”_

_“Shut up!” the kid yelled this time, but the clown seemed unfazed._

_The kid clenched his fists in anger, but after a while, he relaxed. Unclenching his fist and setting them over his legs, and set his look on the ground._

_“When I grow up… Imma getting’ outta of ‘ere as soon as Imma strong enough.  So I don’ need any friends.” The boy then looked back at the man. “Wha’ are ya doin’?” he asked blankly._

_With his hands pressing his cheek, the clown’s face looked narrow, with the eyes turned to slits and the tongue sticking out. It was the most ridiculous face the boy had ever seen._

_“You didn’t think it was funny?” the clown asked in exchange, his tone seemed sad._

_“Sorry, but I don’ like clowns and stuff. In fact, I hate ‘em.”_

_“My, my. Well, I hate crowds and children who don’t laugh.”_

_The clown crossed his arms over his chest, a pout on his mouth. He looked like a petulant child. The kid in turn, looked at him angrily. And crossing his arms as well and looking the other way._

_“Aren’ ya gonna cry? He lived with ya for a long time, didn’ he? Aren’ ya sad?” The boy asked after a while._

_“So sad I could die.”_

_Turning to look back at the man, the kid jumped in fright. The crazy clown was standing below a tree with a piece of rope tied around his neck and the tree. It looked as if he was about to hang himself._

_“QUIT IT!” the kid shouted angrily. ‘Is this guy dangerous?’ he thought nervously._

_“But I can’t cry.” the man said, unfazed by the kid’s predicament. Untying the rope from his neck, he walked back to where the kid was standing and sat next to the grave of the little dog. “Maybe my tears dried up. They just won’t come out.”_

_The boy stared weirdly at the man._

_“Whazzup with tha’?” he whispered. Looking back at the grave, he spoke louder and asked the man. “Wha’ was ‘is name?  He licked my hand yesterday. His tongue was warm… So how come Imma crying over ‘im?”_

_The boy’s voice broke on the last sentence, and against his will, tears started to come out of his eyes. Sniffs came out of his nose, and his mouth gave out to little hitch breathes of sadness._

_“I see. You were Allen’s friend too…” the man whispered and sat with the kid, until he stopped crying out for his little friend._

 

The day the joyful little dog Allen died at the hands of the cruel Cosimo, was the day that Red’s heart broke for the first time. He cried a long time for his late friend for a while, sitting next to Mana, who waited patiently for the kid.

The older clown never once told the kid to stop crying and get up to work. Never tried to tell him that he looked pathetic crying for a dog which was long gone and wasn’t coming back. Never once laughed at him for the snot and tears on his face, instead the kind clown took a cloth and cleaned the boy’s face.

It was also the day that Red learned the third lesson of his life. _Not everyone is cruel and uncaring; some can be nice._

And it was a few days later, Christmas day, that Red received the greatest gift of his life.

_A man, wearing a suit and tall hat, and carrying a suitcase, was standing in the entrance of the circus, talking with an older man. The older man was wearing a red coat, and a yellow top hat, looked displeased at the man in the suit._

_“Are ya sure I cannot convince ya to stay?” the older man asked._

_“I’m afraid not, Ringmaster. I must continue with my journey, it was a pleasure working with you. I hope we can meet again.” The man answered with a small smile._

_The Ringmaster sighed and nodded. “Alrigh’, mate. Have a safe trip.”_

_Both men shook hands and the Ringmaster left. The man watched the older one entering his tent, and turned to look curiously at bushes next to him._

_“I know you are there, little one. Come out.” he called._

_Seconds later the same kid he met yesterday came out from the bushes. Hands in both pockets and the same bored expression on his face._

_“Heard ya were leavin’.” said the boy_

_The man nodded. “Indeed. After Allen, I don’t feel like working in this place anymore.”_

_The kid nodded and kicked a small rock to the side. “Well, good luck. See ya.” He hesitated for a moment, but then shaking his head, he turned around to head back to the circus,_

_The man looked at him curiously; it looked as if the kid wanted to say something but couldn’t quite find the words. The clown then remembered the bruises on the kid’s face the other day._

_“Say, kiddo, would you like to come with me?” he called back at the retreating errand boy._

_The boy’s head whipped around to look at the man with eyes widened in surprise. “Whut?”_

_The man shrugged his shoulders and gave him a small smile. “Well, Allen died, and now the journey would be very lonely. I would be very happy to have someone to travel around with. You can come with me if you want to.”_

_“Why me?”_

_“You are alone. Just like I am.”_

_“Don’t need no one. Imma fine by m’self.” The kid replied, an angry expression on his young face. “Even if I did wanna go with ya, I have no money.”_

_“But I do. I have enough money for two train tickets to London and food. We can even find you some new clothes. Come with me.”_

_The kid looked at him with trembling lips, tears gathering at the corner of his eyes._

_“Why would ya wanna some freak like me to go with ya?” the boy asked in a trembling voice._

_“No one deserves to be alone.” The man answered with a kind smile. “And don’t call yourself a freak. No one is.”_

_“I am.” The boy said in a whisper, and lifted his left arm as best as he could._

_He moved the long sleeve and took off the dirty bandages from it. Where there should have been pale skin, instead was a red-scaly like crust covering the arm. The nails were long, cracked and a deep black color; on the back of the hand, the man could distinguish some type of green cross embedded on the boy’s skin._

_The man looked curiously at the boy, who had closed his eyes and was shivering in fear. Slowly the clown kneeled in front of the chestnut-haired kid and took the left hand in larger one, while the other went to the top of the boy’s head. The little errand boy flinched in fear, as if waiting for a beating._

_“There, there.” The man said in a kind whisper, caressing the boy’s hair. “I don’t see why you make a big deal of this. The only thing I see is a young boy, with a rather peculiar arm.” The boy’s silver grey eyes opened in shock at the man’s words, and looked back at him in wonder. “Nothing to be scared or angry about.”_

 

The gentle clown took Red with him, away from the circus. From the Ringmaster and Cosimo. From the pain and the sadness. From the loneliness. He gave little orphan Red, hope and love, something the boy had always dreamed of.

It was on a Christmas day that Red felt loved for the first time. That day, he was bestowed with a proper name, and adopted by a loving man. And it was also that day that Red gave someone a smile, not a sneer or a smirk, but a truly happy wide smile.

I would love to share with you the name of this little boy who was once known as Red, but I am afraid that it would not be possible. I am aware that this will not make any sense to you, but the circumstances that surround the story of this young boy are not something I can share.

Please accept my deepest apologies.

What I can do tell you is that Mana and Red traveled around the continent for years after that.

It took a while though, for Red to accept Mana as part of his life. He was harsh and cold to the jokes and smiles the clown sent the boy’s way. He was rude and scowled every time Mana told him to speak properly, or tried teaching him what the words on the newspaper said. The boy wasn’t used to anyone caring for him, you see; and he still waited for the moment that Mana decided that he wasn’t worth keeping around.

But Mana never once gave up on him.

Never tried to yell back at him, or hit on the head for being rude. The crazy clown simply smiled patiently at the boy and kept on teaching him. As the time went by, Red got used to the man’s kind actions towards him, and slowly, he changed. He stopped being the boy filled with hatred and rage, into someone who would smile and be a simple happy kid like the rest of the boys and girls his age.

Mana taught Red all sort of clownish tricks and turned him into his partner on his clown acts. They made an amazing and joyful duo, and together they travel around Europe. They performed on the streets and made people laugh.

And for a while, all Red needed was Mana and nothing else.

…

…

…

I would love nothing more than to tell you that this is the end of the story.

That Red grew up into a young man and lived happily ever after, like in the fairy tales. That maybe he found a girl, who didn’t mind the deformity on his left arm, or that he was a street rat. That he got himself a job and raised a family alongside that girl. That Mana the Clown grew into an old man and died with a smile, surrounded by grandchildren with silver grey eyes.

I would really love that… but unfortunately it didn’t go quite like that.

You see one day, one 31st October, an accident happened in the streets of Liverpool. There was a carriage with a bad wheel and an oblivious little boy, with chestnut hair and giant green mitten over his left arm, crossing the street.

_“MANA!”_

_Standing quickly from the floor where he had been lying a few minutes ago, he made his way through the crowd of people gathering around in shock. A figure was lying on the middle of the street, along with an upside down_

_The kid kneeled beside the man and shook him_ “ _Mana. Come on, wake up!” the boy’s voice trembled. But the man didn’t move at the boy’s words, he kept his eyes closed._

_The boy began to cry in desperation and sadness. He just couldn’t quite understand why the joyful wasn’t waking up. Why did the man, who always woke up in the mornings with a smile on his face and acted as if the sun had never gone out, wouldn’t wake up?_

_“A-Allen.” whispered a hoarse voice._

_Brown eyes opened and stared at the little boy sobbing on top of his chest. Allen’s face shot up with hope and smiled._

_“Mana! Don’t worry you’re going to get better. They are calling a doctor right now, and you’ll feel better soon. And… and we’ll be able to take the boat and visit America, like you said we would.”_

_“Allen, I’m sorry.” Mana coughed._

“ _Mana? Why are you sorry? You didn’t do anything.”_

_“A-Allen… Promise me that you’ll never stop. That will always keep walking.” The man’s voice was becoming softer._

_“M-Mana?”_

_“Take care, Allen.” The man whispered one last time, before closing his eyes._

_“Mana? Mana! MANA!”_

 

Do not worry; the man who was on the carriage didn’t get injured. Little Red, who was now 12 years old, and was the boy crossing the street, was saved too. But, unfortunately, there was someone that didn’t made it safely from the accident.

You see, Mana pushed Red as soon as he saw that the carriage wasn’t going to be able to stop. He saved his son’s life, and lost his instead.

It was something the haunted Red for many years to come. It was clear to many people, that it wasn’t the kid’s fault. That it also wasn’t the gentleman’s fault. It wasn’t as if both of them wished for the wheel to break and the kid to cross the street. But, Red blamed himself, thinking that maybe if he had been paying attention, then he wouldn’t have crossed the street. If he had paid attention, then Mana wouldn’t have to jump and save him.

That Mana wouldn’t have died.

He had his whole world destroyed in a single day. The man, who played around with him and told jokes and always looked for a way to make him smile, was gone. The man, who taught him how to read and write, was gone. The man, who had saved him all those years ago from a hellish place, had saved him again from the carriage. But he wouldn’t be there to save him once again. He wouldn’t be there anymore.

He cried for a long time, sitting on the hill of the local graveyard, where the gentleman from the carriage had arranged for Mana to be buried. He sat next to his father’s tomb and refused to leave his side. He was a 12 year old boy, with no family and no one else to call that could take care of him. He refused to leave the side of the man who had given him everything.

Red’s little heart had been broken once again, but it wouldn’t be able to be repaired. He was alone in the cold world one more time. And he just didn’t know what to do.

But it all changed. It all changed the night _He_ arrived.

You see, there is a man. A very evil man, who loves tragedies the most.

_“Good evening, little one. How are you doing?”_

 

He likes to travel around the world, searching for a new one to add to his collection. And he will always find them.

And it is quite easy to spot this horrible man, he is tall and rather fat, and loves to wear a light colored suit, with a top hat and carry around a pink umbrella. His golden eyes are hidden by a pair of glasses, and his mouth is open in wide, never ending smile.

If you ever have the unfortunate chance to meet this man, get away from him as soon as you can. You see, he is a dangerous man, and likes to look at people in the eyes and promise to grant them a special wish. Of giving them that which they desire the most, that which will take away the pain from their hearts.

_“Would you like me to bring Mana Walker back?”_

_The little boy sitting on the ground stared at the man with widened eyes. The large man appeared out of nowhere and was now staring at him intently with those golden eyes behind the pair of glasses._

_“B-bring Mana back?” his voice cracked with the lack of use._

_“Why, yes. Would you like to have your dear father back with you?”_

_“Can you do it?”_

_“Of course I can!” the man’s smiled widened even more. “I can bring him back from the hands of that hateful God. If I do, you two will be together again.”_

_“Really? Mana will come back?” Tear-stained face beginning to be illuminated in hope of having his dear father back with him._

_The man chucked and with the move of his hand, a dark metal skeleton suddenly appeared next to the grave. There was a rather peculiar inverted black star on its forehead.  The kid looked in amazement at the man; it was as if the man was a magician. Just like the ones from the town fairs he had visited with Mana._

_“All I need is your collaboration and you’ll have your father back with you.” The man said, his wide smile never leaving his face._

_The boy looked back and forth the man and then the skeleton several times, uncertainty crossing his face. He wasn’t quite sure what was that the man wanted from him, but looking back the headstone on his father’s grave, made him clenched his fists and look back at the man. Determination burning on his silver grey eyes._

_“What do I do?”_

_“The soul of that dear person will come back to this world, if someone that loved them with all their hearts calls their names. Come on, boy; call you dear father back to you.”_

_The little boy walked to the skeleton and standing straight, he breathes deeply through his nose. And opening his mouth, he yelled the name of the man that he had loved the most in the past three years._

_“MANA!”_

_Dark clouds gathered of the orange sky, and thunder resonated on the silence of the abandoned graveyard. A sole purple lighting crashed on the skeleton and immediately purple flames surrounded the thin. He watched in fascination as suddenly the word_ Mana _was slowly engraved on the skeleton’s forehead right below the inverted star._

_“A…llen…” the thing talked and Allen jumped in excitement._

_“Mana.” The boy whispered with tears on his eyes and a happy smile on his face. He started to make his way to take the skeleton’s hand, hoping to find the warm hand of his dear father._

But there is a catch, a price to pay. A toll so high, that no one can achieve.

_“How could you? How could you turn me into a demon?!”_

_The skeleton began moving harshly, trying to free himself from the bindings on his metal body. The silver-grey eyed kid started to back slowly, away from the angry skeleton. His little body shivering in fear, and eyes wide as saucer plates._

_“I CURSE YOU ALLEN!”_

_Mana screamed in rage and lifted his metal arm, which now was a sharp blade and moved rapidly towards the kid. Allen unable to move from the shock got slashed on the left side of his face. Screaming in pain, the kid went down to the floor clutching his left eye._

The Evil Man decided to pay little Red a visit, the night the Mana died. He came to him and with his ever present smile; he offered the boy the opportunity to be happy again, to be with Mana again. But Red, who was only a 12 year-old boy, couldn’t pay the price. And the man, who loves tragedies the most, didn’t cared at all.

The kid had to pay the price, even if it meant to give him his life in exchange for it.

_“You belong to me, Allen Walker.” Spoke the man from behind a dried tree. His ever present smile, widening even more and his golden eyes shining in glee. “Now, kill this kid and use his skin. Don’t take too long, we have a schedule to follow after all.” he ordered the skeleton._

_Without missing a beat, the skeleton then took the kid from the floor and lifted him. And the boy, bleeding from the gash on his little face, could only stare in sadness and tears on his eyes at the skeleton who was supposed to be his father._

But Red didn’t die; he was saved.

_Suddenly a green light blinded the three figures on the graveyard; startling the skeleton and making him release the chestnut-haired kid.  Allen looked in wonder at his left hand, which was now shining green and changing form. Slowly the arm grew in size and the fingers became more and more slender, until they had the shape of claws. The once scaly-like red skin, turned into a metallic-like silver skin. And the green cross forever embedded on the back of the hand, shone green like never before._

_The fat man in the suit, looked in shock at the small child, and began to slowly retreat away from the scene and the graveyard. As for the child, he was quickly being dragged by the claw towards the skeleton._

_“Stop it! Leave Mana alone! Run, Father!” Allen cried, desperately trying to stop his left hand from getting near his dear father. He didn’t want Mana to get hurt._

_But the skeleton didn’t moved from the claw’s way, it stood perfectly still as the giant hand positioned itself in front of him. Turning its head to the small child on the ground, Mana whispered fondly._

_“Allen, I love you. Please, destroy me.”_

_Allen looked at his foster father, his eyes widened in fear. Because it wasn’t the skeleton that he was seeing. It was Mana’s face, covered in a black cloud, with chains tying him down to the metal skeleton standing._

_“Take care, Allen.” The skeleton whispered, and the boy looked one last time at what he had turned his father into. The claw then went down, and slashed the skeleton, destroying it._

_“Mana!”_

 

Something happened that night; something like he had never seen before. A miracle, to be honest. It came in a silver and green flash, and saved little Red from the clutches of the Evil Man and all of his false promises.

When we lose something we love so much, it destroys a small part of us. Sometimes the pain is too great to bear, and some people are capable of doing anything to stop it. I can’t tell you the details of what exactly happened that night, that 31st of October. I can’t tell you about what that man promised to give Red, although you can probably guess what it was. I can’t tell you what exactly was that saved Red, what scared the Evil Man enough to go away and leave his prey alone.

What I can tell you, however, is that Red wasn’t left to his luck.

A few hours after the Evil Man left Red at the graveyard, at the boy’s savior disappeared, a man came. He was tall, with long red hair flowing along with the chilling breeze on the cemetery. He wore black clothing, and a lit cigarette hanging from the corner of his mouth.

His name… was Cross.

 

_“The souls trapped in the form of an Akuma, can never be free again. They are trapped for all eternity, and become the toys of the Millennium Earl.”_

_A tall man dressed in a dark coat, with golden decorations approached the devastated kid, sitting in the ground. His chestnut hair sticking in all directions, with a few stranding sticking to the left side of his face with the dried blood. The left sleeve from his checkered coat was ripped, letting a red scaly-like arm with black nails into full view._

_The man kneeled in front of the kid, and he stiffened at the sudden closeness._

_“The only way to save them is to destroy them.” The man took a sip from his cigarette and look at the kid’s left hand. “You were born with an Anti-Akuma weapon… such an unfortunate destiny have befallen you. You’ve been chosen by God as one of his Apostles.”_

Cross approached the young boy sitting on the graveyard, and gave him a choice.

_“Would you like to become an Exorcist? It’s not an easy path, but you might be able to make things better.”_

 

You see, there are people, an organization, who work to stop the Evil Man. They travel around the world, stopping the Evil Man and his followers from harming another person. To help those who fell on his clutches and setting them free from their debt.

Cross belonged to this mysterious organization, and he decided that Red might be interested in joining. He gave him the choice to fix his mistake, to redeem himself from accepting an offer from the Evil Man. Cross knew Red felt guilty on the inside, because the young boy had broken the promise he made Mana.

 _Don’t stop, keep walking._ It was something Mana always said, to never look back at the past, because there was nothing you could do anymore about it. That you had to continue down a path and live your life, because it was simply the only thing you could do. And you could never stop, because time didn’t, and if you did, you wouldn’t be able to get yourself on track again. And Red, in his grief, had broken it.

The 12 year-old wasn’t the same after that night. His encounter with the Evil Man hadn’t left him unscathed. The left side of his face had been marked forever. And so something change, something broke inside of him.

 

_“You’re awake now, huh? How you feeling?” the man with the long red hair asked the kid lying on the bed._

_But he received no answer. The young chestnut-haired boy began trembling as he felt every fiber of his body becoming hotter and hotter, until the point of making it unbearable. He left eye was throbbing and itching constantly, and he slowly lifted his hands to touch it. Everything was hurting, his legs, arms, chest, and his lungs were having difficulty breathing air._

_It was then that he felt as if something was ripped inside of him, as if something was slowly crawling beneath his skin, and tearing the flesh._

_“Hey brat, calm down!”_

_He screamed, like he had never done before in his life. Not when Mana’s knife-like hand slashed his right. Not when he was first been whipped with the Ringmaster’s belt, not even when Cosimo smashed a beer bottle on his face. He screamed and screamed until his throat was raw and his voice left him._

_He wasn’t sure how long the pain lasted, it might bad been an hour, or maybe a day, or even a week. But it hurt, and he hadn’t been able to move. His body was on fire, and his left eye was always itching and throbbing, never stopping. His head hurt, and his right eye was always crying, he felt like a defeated soldier._

 

The injury he received had been so grave; it gave him pain for a month. Every single day, he was in pain, he couldn’t sleep, he couldn’t sleep, he couldn’t move. And yet, it wasn’t the pain that broke his young spirit and mind… it was the memories.

Memories from the worst moments of his life. In the streets with the cold alleys and the hunger that lasted for days. In the circus, when he had his punishments delivered by the Ringmaster and Cosimo. His days with Mana, the best ones when they only laughed and traveled around… and the day he lost him. The voice of the Evil Man speaking to him, tempting him into accepting his proposal. The aftermath of his actions that night at the cemetery.

 

_He didn’t want to close his eyes; he feared that if he did he would see it again. The skull-like mask, with the black star on the crown of its head and the swirl instead of a left eye. Floating closer and closer to him, speaking in the same voice Mana had. Repeating over and over again the same words._

_“How did you dare to turn me into a demon?”_

_“You’ll pay for what you did to me.”_

_“I curse you, Allen Walker!”_

 

It took a while, for Red to be better.

The idea that he had let his dear father down, consumed him on the inside; the guilt of breaking his promise out of grief and selfishness, according to him, was unbearable. He didn’t believe he deserved another chance to continue with his life, not after what he had done, not after he struck a deal with the Evil Man. He wanted to let go of everything, to be left alone and spend the rest of his days in a dark corner.

But Cross never gave up on him.

_“Damn, it’s urine now…” the man sighed. “Alright kid, time for a bath.”_

_“C’mon kid, you need to eat.”_

_“So you loved Mana so much…? C’mon Allen, remember what he always used to say?”_

 

The red-haired man stuck with the little boy day and night taking care of him. Feeding him, washing and changing his dirty clothes and dirty bed sheets. He was a man with no ties to the little boy, and yet he stuck around until Red was better. He stayed awake during the nights making sure he didn’t harmed himself, and he sat with him after one of his nightmares.

Cross never gave up on Red, just like Mana never did when he rescued him from the circus.

And so, Red began to heal, slowly but surely. His nightmares stopped, and he started to talk more and more. He began to eat by himself, and dress himself. The kid stopped being on the bed the whole day, and started to walk around the room they were staying and looking through the window.

But even if Red was awake again, he wasn’t the same 12 year-old boy who was once a street rat. He stopped being someone with an harsh temper, and a sailor mouth when angry. He stopped being the same skeptical kid from the circus, a kid who saw the world around him and saw the reality behind the appearances.  

His guilt had been so much to his little broken heart, he decided to keep Mana alive and honor him by being someone Mana could be proud of. Someone who wasn’t selfish and let grief consume him. Someone who believed in the kindness of the world and returned it to everyone he met. Someone who laugh and smiled despite the circumstances he found himself in.

Someone that wasn’t him, someone that was just like Mana had been.

Perhaps you might think that it wouldn’t be such a bad thing, because Mana was a nice person. A caring and loving father who didn’t let any kind of situation stops him from seeing the good in people. But then again, that was Mana, not Red.

Cross wasn’t a stupid man, and he knew of what had been going through the boy’s head. He knew it was wrong for someone to act the way Red did, to become someone he was not to try and redeem himself. But the red-haired man also knew that it was also the only way the little boy he rescued, could stand up again and follow his own path.

So the man took the boy once he was better, and together they traveled around the world, to begin the younger one’s training. The training to become part of the very same organization that wanted to help save the world, to stop the Evil Man from causing more tragedies.

Red had chosen his own path, and he would fight and make things better for his father, and Cross would help him achieve it.

The training wasn’t easy, far from it. You see, one would expect, after how much the man took care of the young boy, to be a strict, but also kind master. One that would teach him properly and then award his student for his progress and hard work.

As if. 

Cross was, in a one-worded description, a bastard.  

A cold, ruthless, womanizing, drunk bastard.

He loved going around after woman to spend the night with, and would always carry a bottle of red wine hidden somewhere in his coat. Inside his pants pockets he carried around the same unmistakable golden lighter, and a packet of cigarettes. He wasn’t someone that cared about money and payments, and so through many years of traveling, drinking and womanizing, his debts had reached a point that would give even the richest man on earth a heart attack.

Red’s training consisted on throwing him against the debt collectors and the Evil Man’s minions and waiting somewhere until either the kid won the fight, or it was necessary that he interfered. He left his debts for Red to pay somehow; it went as far as ending in the boy gambling and cheating at card games to get the money. Sometimes Cross would disappear for days, leaving the boy to fend for himself and get food and money to pay the hotel room.

In summary, it was hell.

_“I don’t know how long I can live like this, Tim. Sometimes I feel like I made a mistake accepting Master’s offer. Bastard probably only wanted a slave to pay his debts.”_

 

But Cross wasn’t always bad; he could be nice when he wanted to be.

He bought Red clothes when the old ones didn’t fit anymore, and taught him mathematics and algebra. If the boy ever got sick, the man wouldn’t leave to drink and stayed with him on the hotel until he was feeling better. He taught Red to play several card games, including Poker, the boy’s favorite game and the one he would later use to gamble and pay the debts. It came to Red’s surprise when Cross bought a set of chess and taught him, he hadn’t expected the womanizing man to know that kind of games.

Over the almost four years they spent together, Cross taught Red a great amount of things. And yet the best thing Cross ever did for the boy, was to prepare him for everything he was going to face for the rest of his life.

 

_“You are crazy! I can’t do any of that, no human can.” Silver-grey eyes glared directly into pair of crimson ones._

_“I’m sorry to tell you this kid, but you are not a normal human. You are an Exorcist, or trying to be one anyway. You are expected to do impossible things, in expense of your life. But it looks to me, that you are giving up.” the man said nonchalantly._

_“Never. I made a promise to Mana. I’ll become an Exorcist and stop the Earl and free the.” The boy answered harshly._

_“Well it doesn’t look like it. You are only bitching about our living conditions, about how I’m too cruel to you. You really think the other Exorcists have it easy? You think the missions they take are sunshine and rainbows?”_

_“Of course not.” the younger one lowered his head, trying to hide away from the calculating stare of the older man._

_“Then, why are you complaining? Are you not tough enough to become an Exorcist? Are you scared? Are you not capable enough of sleeping on the floor and fighting a herd of Akumas? Huh, Stupid Apprentice?” the man said in a mocking tone._

_“I can do it.”_

_“Then prove it. Prove me that I’m wrong in saying you can’t, Allen.” The man said, while taking another drag from his cigarette and blowing it directly to his apprentice’s face._

_“I’ll show you.” He answered his Master with a smirk, and determination burning on his silver-grey eyes. “I will become the greatest Exorcist, the Black Order will ever have.”_

 

It wasn’t easy, and the boy was constantly tired, and yet he wouldn’t back down. He made a promise to Mana once again, that he would continue down the path he had chosen, the path to stop the Evil Man. He knew it wasn’t going to be easy, but to Red, it was the only thing he could do to fix his past mistakes.

He was 15 years old when he joined the Order. Cross left him somewhere in India, and sent Red with instructions of where to find the mysterious organization that worked to save the world.

They were a small group, Red found out, when he met all of them. There were around 20 people than engaged the Evil Man directly, while the rest of the organization were Finders to search for clues, and the Science Division to design the weapons and strategies to fight their enemies. It wasn’t exactly what Red expected, but they were nice people, rather eccentric all of them, but so was he.

The head of the European branch, the one Red joined, was one of the smartest individuals in the Order… as well as one of the craziest and kindest. The man could build some of the most wick machines the young boy ever saw; but he would always stand at the door to greet them when they returned to the Order after a mission. To welcome them back home.

 

_“Welcome home, Allen. We’re glad to have you back.” The man smiled kindly at the teenager._

_“I’m home, Komui.”_

 

One of the first people he met was a young Chinese girl. She was fierce in battle, fast and strong, and yet she was also one of the nicest persons he had ever met. She was always willing to help and greeted everyone with a warm smile full of kindness.

 

_“Don’t say that! I’ll… I’ll… I’ll never fight you!”_

_“No matter what happens, I will always be an Exorcist… Goodbye, Lenalee.”_

 

There was a hyperactive Red-Head, with an eye-patch over his right eye. He was cheerful and loved playing pranks. He knew a lot about history and Red enjoyed his company, although he didn’t like when he called him nicknames. The Red-Head had a guardian with him in the Order, a very old man who was an amazing Historian and would constantly bicker with his childish grandson.

 

_“Hey Allen, are you listening? I was telling you about the time I went on that mission to China. I got to know this super cute babe in a Chinese dress!”_

_“Lavi, I’m tired stop talking.”_

 

_“Nice to meet you. I don’t own a name, but everyone calls me Bookman.”_

 

He met two very nervous people, a man and a woman. The man, he met him in Rumania, and had been rejected his whole life for his vampire-like looks. The woman, from a small town in Germany, was the epitome of insecurity and, just like the man, was shunned by the people for her clumsiness. And yet, both of them were one of the kindest souls and most reliable people Red ever had the pleasure of meeting.

 

_“Krory! There you are, where have you been?” he stared in surprise as the man turned around. He was only wearing boxers._

_“I was walking through the train, and I met this gentleman. They invited me to play this game called Poker. But before I knew I lost everything I had.”_

_“But if I do, you will be injured! I can’t do that… I can’t see you all get hurt again.” Her voice trembled in sadness. Tears began falling down her cheeks, as she hugged herself in shame._

_“It’s okay Miranda, we will all be alright. You can deactivate Time Record now.” He gave her a smile, promising her that everything will be okay._

 

There was a tall man, a blind man, who was one of the best fighters the Order had, his disability never once redeeming him useless. A Chinese man who could lift the heaviest of objects, and was filled with a great amount of rage and determination to stop the Evil Man. An orphan boy, the youngest of them all; who was brave, abrasive and kind and was willing to fight to protect his friends from the orphanage. There was an elder man, who was kind and the best painter the young boy ever met. A stern woman and her companion, a little monkey. A Latin man, whose sanity left a lot to wish for, but he was one of the strongest and fiercest fighters in the Order.

_“My name is Noise Marie, it’s nice to meet you.”_

_“I-I don’t understand. He is a Noah, an enemy… why are you helping him?”_

_He watched fondly as the younger boy laughed with the elderly woman._

_“You know? Timothy reminds a little bit of how I used to be, I was brash and rude. But it all changed when I met Mana.”_

_“They are the Generals, Allen. Meet General Tiedoll, General Nine and General Sokalo.”_

_“Nice to meet you all.” He said with a polite smile._

_“Cross Marian’s student, this should be interesting.” Muttered the taller man, staring down at the boy with a curious sadistic glint on his eyes._

_“I hope that you are not like that womanizer.” The woman looked down at him sternly. Allen simply smiled at her._

_“None at all, ma’am.” The woman nodded in acknowledgement, the boy looked alright._

_“It’s very nice to meet you, young man.” The elderly man smiled at him and shook his hand._

 

And lastly but not least, was a Japanese boy, older than Red for about three years, rude and cold to everyone. He and Red crashed on the latter’s first day, and bickered constantly. They liked to fight and insult each other, and most people liked to bet that they would kill each other one day. And yet, they worked well together, and had similar fighting styles. Red couldn’t ask for a better battle partner.

_“Kanda! Renny said that is there was someone could save Alma, you were the only one who could. And I totally agree with her.” He smiled at the Japanese man falling below him._

_“Thank you, Allen Walker. I’m glad that you’re here.” The man gave him a brief smile._

 

They were all nice people, and they welcomed him into their lives. They treated him well, and they joked and laughed. They greeted him with a smile and hang around with him when they weren’t on missions. They treated him with respect and kindness, like he was another one of them.

And Red couldn’t understand any of them.  

Because as far as Red could remember, no one had ever wanted to be friends with him. And so the boy, when he had been only seven years old, taught himself that he didn’t need any friends. That they were just a waste of time.

So the 15 year-old boy, simply couldn’t understand why this group of nice people wanted to be friends with him of all people. Someone who was broken and had done horrible things on his life, like what he had done when Mana died, as they later found out. This people didn’t cared one bit, they considered him one of them. A friend. Someone who was part of their little eccentric family.

And for the first time in a long time, Red felt happy. He never did let go of the mask of Mana he wore, but he felt happy and cherished. He felt free.

…

…

…

You are probably wondering what happened to this boy. And I would love to tell you that he lived happily for many years. That he worked hard alongside this people and fought against the Evil Man and his followers. That they managed to defeat them, protected the innocent and saved the world. That when the war ended, they all built their families and lived happy lives. That they continued to see each other and then died of old age.

Things weren’t that easy, I’m afraid.

The missions and battles they took on were some of the hardest things Red ever had to do in his life. His enemies were cruel and ruthless, never showing mercy to anyone. They lost people, good people Red or anyone couldn’t save for much that they tried.

 

_“Exorcist Suman Dark had been found guilty of betraying his comrades to the Noah. His Innocence deemed him unworthy and as his punishment, he became Fallen One Exorcist Allen Walker tried to stop him and save him. I’m sorry to tell you, that there wasn’t much to be done.”_

 

He saw horrifying things; things that no one could ever imagine could have existed.

 

_“Why are you so mad?” he didn’t answer her, he could only watch as the girl approached him and slowly kneeled in front of him. “Can’t you believe that I’m human?”_

_His only response was a glare and a sneer. He could never believe that a human would willingly help someone as vile as the Earl. He felt her cold hands touch him, and he stiffened. His silver-grey eyes widened in shock when he discovered that this girl, Road as she called herself, was hugging him._

_“Aren’t I warm? Don’t I feel like another human?” he felt a heart beating. A human heart, just like his._

 

_He stopped screaming when the purple lightning died out. He was felt to the ground like a motionless doll, and all he could feel was cold numbness. He couldn’t feel his left arm, and he also knew that his arm wasn’t there anymore. It was a meter away from where he laid on the ground, the tall man standing right next to it._

_“Didn’t you know, Boy? We can destroy Innocence.”_

 

_He watched as Tim took the glowing piece of Innocence in his mouth and quickly flew away. A voice spoke next to him, mocking him._

_“I can guess what you were thinking when you sent the golem away. I’m done for. I need to at least send my golem to my friends. You’ve prepared yourself for death, right?”_

_“If everyone is there… If Tim and everyone are there, then there is still hope.” He answered with difficulty. His body hurt everywhere, and black edges filling his vision._

_“You are optimistic to the end, Boy. Well, pray that happens. To your God, if you like. But your God isn’t there, Boy.”_

_The boy didn’t answer; he couldn’t trust his voice not to shake from the tiredness. He saw as the man knelt, he turned his head to look at him, his eyes hardened. He wouldn’t let this man, this Noah, see him as weak. His name was Allen Walker, and he didn’t stop walking, he would always move forward._

_And if forward was death, then he would take it. Mana and his Master taught him well after all._

_“Listen Tease, don’t eat him. Just open a hole in his heart. I feel like I should give courageous people like you time before they die. The blood will flow from your heart, and your body will fill with terror. And you’ll die suffering.”_

_He felt a hand pass through his chest; something positioned on top of his beating heart, and bit hard into it._

 

_“I am Level Four.” The childish voice spoke, and he felt chills running down his spine. It was an ugly thing, that new Akuma, with bee-like wings and a halo on his head. He was skinny like a skeleton, with an inflated belly that had an inverted pentagram on it. Big wide eyes stared right at him._

_He almost threw up when his eyes landed on it. It was the most horrible thing Allen had ever seen, its soul. Burned down to an indefinite form and smelling of rotten flesh. There wasn’t anything left to save anymore._

 

They were moments filled with so much tension and sadness. Moments of confusion and fear… this led to things to complicate inside the mysterious organization. The Higher-Ups sent people to take care of thigs their way, and everything changed. The Order, a place that once brought happiness and hope, became a place where people were treated like assets, like pawns, rather than humans. Everyone was pushed to the edge, working harder and being in constant surveillance.

They were little birds, and the Order became their cage.

And Red, he became their target. The now 16 year-old boy did some things that the Higher-Ups didn’t like one bit. He was accused of treason, and put on probation. He was given his personal watchdog to tail him around and notify the Higher-Ups if he ever did anything suspicious; anything that could bring a danger to the Order.

 

_“Hello, my name is Inspector Howard Link. It’s a pleasure to meet you. I will be supervising you from now on, so please accept this pumpkin pie as a greeting.” He turned to look curiously at the person speaking._

_He was tall, with long blond hair tied in a braid, some bangs on the front of his face hiding from view a couple of curiously looking dots in the middle of his forehead. He was about to asked him whatever he meant, when suddenly his eyes found the perfectly baked pie in the man’s hands._

_It was beautiful._

_“Nice to meet you!” he said excitedly while snatching the pie from the guy’s hands._

 

_Every Exorcist the Order had was staring in shock at their Head Chief. None of them imagined something like that happening, they simply couldn’t believe it._

_“Is that true, Brother?” asked the green-haired girl in a whisper._

_Her brother looked down in shame, there wasn’t really much he could do to protect the young white-haired teen._

_“Chief Komui?” spoke a deep voice next to him.  Inspector Leverrier regarded him with narrowed eyes, daring him to go against their orders._

_“And now, Exorcists are under an indefinite assignment. That is, if Allen Walker awakens as the Fourteenth and is considered a threat to us…” he spoke in a controlled voice, not letting a single emotion pass through._

_“In that case, please kill me.” He said, and he felt everyone staring at him, he ignored them. “But that won’t happen, if the 14 th ever tries to attack the Order, I will stop him.”_

As things went from bad to worst; he finally began to understand Cross. All of the things he did when he was training the young boy.

 

" _What would you do if I told you you'll have to kill someone you love when you become the 14th…?"_

" _When I joined this organization, I swore to Mana that I'd never stop, no matter what. That I'd keep walking until I die. I'm the one who swore! That's right, I swore. I don't know… how much I've been influenced by the 14th's memories, and honestly I don't know how to take the news about Mana. But I still love him, these feelings… come from my heart, from the real me. So I'm going to keep my promise. That's what I've decided! I don't care about the 14th! I won't let him have this!"_

_Cold large hands got a hold of him and began dragging him away from his Master and out of the room by the Crow members. But as he was leaving, Allen swore he looked a hint of pride in the General's eyes._

 

Cross was never considerate with Red, of his feelings and body’s condition; because he knew that the boy’s enemies wouldn’t be so with him. He pushed the boy to train harder and harder every day that passed, telling him to get used to the bruises and scratches.

He never spoke nicely to the boy, always taunting him and making him snap in anger, because he knew that people wouldn’t do so once he joined the Order. His enemies will mock him, and some of the members of the Order might sneer at him for being one of the fighters, and even more when he was charged with treason.

The kid had chosen a path, a hard path, which will lead him to see a different side of the world, a colder and darker one. A more unforgiving one. Cross knew this, and more. And so he prepared his apprentice for some of the worst things he would ever had to endure. He prepared him for the pain and the insanity he would have to live through; he prepared him for the mockery and the stares. He prepared him for so many things, but for one thing in particular.

The day Cross disappeared was like living through Mana’s death again. He woke up one day to find the older man gone, a pool of blood and a broken window in his place. Nobody knew what happened the night before, nobody knew if the man was alive. Many stated that he was dead, Red believed with all his heart that they wrong.

Because he knew that his Master was strong and clever, and he would never let anything put him out of the way. To take away his life. Cross was the master of his own soul and fate, he would go when he decided, and no one could stop him.

He had to believe in his Master, just like Cross believed in him to fix everything in his life. To redeem himself from his deal with the Evil Man, to clear his name from the trash the Higher-Ups and everyone in the Order were accusing him of.

He was Red a street rat, foster son of Mana the Clown and apprentice to Cross.

He will be damned if he went down without a fight. . And so he left, in order to follow his own path and make things better, to make both his Father and Master proud.

…

…

…

There is not much I can tell you now. I don’t know how Red’s story ends, I don’t know how much more this boy will have to suffer. But I do believe in him, I do believe that he will fix things. That he will follow his own path, and never stop walking.

That he will free himself and his comrades from their fate as the warriors that fight the Evil Man and his army. That he will atone for his sins and be able to reunite with Mana and Cross. To be able to finally let the happiness enter his life and never let it go again.

There are many people around the world, and every single one of them has stories. Some are happy, some are rather tragic, but stories nonetheless. Red is one of these people, another one in the world, and I believe that he deserves to have his story be heard. To have someone understand that maybe he is not as bad as the people in his life things he is. That he is too worthy of the good things in life.

I know that this story is rather vague, that there are some details left behind. Like I mentioned before, there are special circumstances that surround this young boy, and I couldn’t risk putting you in danger by sharing them.

I don’t know what you will do with this once you finish reading it, but I want to thank you for reaching the end. I’m sure that Red would appreciate this. Maybe one day we all know for sure how this story ends.

Farewell,

_A.R.W_

**…o0o…**

It was a cold and dark night, with no moon to shine in the black sky.

At the edge of the forest, a lone figure was standing on top the bridge that crossed over a small river. It was a young man, with a black hood covering the white locks that fell down to the shoulders. Pale as white snow, with silver grey eyes staring sadly at the reflection on the water below. An angry red scar marred the left side of his angelic face.

On his glove-clad fingers, he was holding an empty red wine bottle. The bottle was sealed with a cork, and if you got tried looking through the bottle you would be able to find a piece of parchment inside of it.

Slowly, the boy let go off the bottle, and stared silently as it felt on the river.

“Don’t stop, keep walking. Always, right Mana?” he whispered.

Without another word, the young man began walking away from the bridge, to get inside the forest. Leaving everything behind him, never to look back again.

To find a new path, and always move forward.

 

**-END.**


End file.
